


Packaging and Content

by raven_aorla



Series: Sheaths and Safeties [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Catholic Character, Drama, Gen, Misgendering, Mobsters, Non-Graphic Violence, Oswald's Eye Makeup, References to Drugs, Switching Sides, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Transphobia, mention of Zsasz's self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 01:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12332508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_aorla/pseuds/raven_aorla
Summary: Maroni's men lived by machismo. Zsaszettes were indisputably women. Not a difficult decision.[Can be read on its own. Posted for International Day of the Girl Child, in honor ofallgirls, no matter their bodies.]





	Packaging and Content

Oswald was sitting at the table with Sal Maroni and a number of his associates, 'helping' plan a 'surprise' attack on one of Falcone's storehouses. Then the door opened and Sal beckoned. "Cuz! Get over here! Have you met Penguin?"

'Cuz' was barely in his twenties. He was gray-eyed, blonde, and in boots with the slightest suggestion of heel, fitted suit tailoring, a hint of lace on his pocket square. The peek of a gold cross you could see around his neck was very delicate, with a single pink stud. Oswald had learned to look for these things. "No, I haven't, but I have seen him on the news. Nice to meet you, Mister -"

"Hey, hey, I didn't say we needed a whole speech. Give 'im a nod and go back to your post outside. I promised Nonna I'd start introducing you to people, help you make connections. You've been introduced."

The young man's hand momentarily twitched towards his holstered gun, but he just smiled. Saccharine. "Yes, Sal, whatever you say."

As he left, before he was out of earshot, Sal said, "These poor relations, you gotta love 'em, right? Where were we?"

****

Cesar Maroni was called Cee by friends in grade school, back in New York before it was decided Cee should go to Gotham to pitch in and gain practical experience with first-cousin-once-removed Salvatore’s branch of the Family with a capital F. This decision was not Cee’s. Much like Cee’s career, groomed since preteen to be a sharp-dressed shadow soldier. Bullet fodder for more successful relatives.

Even the totally-not-bullying nickname of Sissy, courtesy of Sal’s men when Sal wasn’t in earshot, was preferable to Cesar. Token protests, of course, as was _manly_ to do. Bad enough to like the prettiest of rosaries and shimmery chapstick, bad enough to pitch voice mezzo, bad enough to be caught checking out both the call girls and the rent boys when collecting protection money.

Sal’s use of “cuz” and attitude of a put-upon, though mildly amused, babysitter grated. Nice to imagine him literally grated into fine shreds, served in one of his money laundering restaurants like Parmesan or, more realistically, Thai pork floss.

_Now stand watch in dripping Gotham rain, Penguin inside. Dream of being a self-directed girl with a self-chosen name._

****

“I have sinned through sodomy, cross-dressing, torture, general lack of chastity, stealing a bunch of classic film noir DVDs because the manager was snooty at me and also I love Bogart, dishonoring my parents, envying people who fit themselves, what was probably murder, coveting this one pair of strappy patent leather stilettos that I would never have a place to wear to even if they came in my size, and also I ate a sack of Doritos while crying over my sex life being mostly with pros because I fear judgment. Which is gluttony, right? The Doritos. I don’t eat partners despite being a fan of mantis-style kung fu.”

“You are saying you did all this in the past week.”

“You’re supposed to be a Mob-friendly priest.”

“I am. I’m just not sure where to start.”

“At least I’m not slothful?”

****

After hearing the news, Sal instructed that Cesar be escorted to him without being permitted to change. Sal needed to take in the full sight in person.

“You look like a goddamn hooker, cuz,” Sal said when the doors closed and they were alone. He did not offer Cesar a seat.

Cesar stared down at the floor, stone faced. “I was on the way to a party. Not against rules.”

“You were going to a party on foot dressed in go-go boots, a dress, a pound of makeup and two pounds of jewelry.” The worst of it was that Cesar didn’t look half bad.

“Private costume party. I’d parked a block away. Freddie had drunk jailbait on his arm when he ran into me, insulted me, and took out his phone and snitched right on the spot. You don’t care about that?”

Sal wished he had a drink in reach. “It’s about our image. People know you’re related to me. I’ve known for a long time that you ain’t the most normal guy, but you’re good at what you do and so I’ve let it pass except for a word here and there. Mickey found out from the dry cleaner that you get girl clothes cleaned there too, not just girly-ass suits -”

“Since when does Mickey spy on people for you?”

“Shut up, kid, I’m talking.” Cesar’s expression went from stone to stormy. Maybe Sal could finally get to him this time. “We have a brand. We’re tough. We’re intimidating. We aren’t to be fucked with. People laughing at you means they’re laughing at me, which means they’re laughing at us. Capisce?”

Slowly, Cesar’s eyes went from the floor to meeting Sal’s. “Yeah, we have a brand. Maybe if you cared more about the content and less about the packaging, we wouldn’t be playing second fiddle to Falcone.”

To punch Cesar in the face would have showed too much respect. Sal rose to his feet and slapped him instead. “If you weren’t my own flesh and blood, I would have you beaten to a pulp for that remark, or worse.”

Cesar took a step back and assumed a more military stance. Sal’s handprint was visible on his right cheek. “Yes, Don Maroni.”

“That’s better. Go home and clean up. It’s so late it’s early, and you’re a cartoon. I’m reassigning you to something a bit less visible for the time being until you’ve earned your way back into my presence. Frieddie's squad, so he’ll keep an eye on you. He and his men are supervising the cocaine shipment on Monday.”

“Yes, Don Maroni.”

Sitting back down and pointedly looking in another direction, Sal waved Cesar away.

****

Zsasz tried cocaine once, years ago. Didn’t do anything for him. More fun to pretend that these four Maroni fellas were fiercely guarding all the powdered sugar ever conceived. For Falcone it wasn’t so much about the money, it was about the rivalry. For Zsasz, it was about a good time.

After he’d dealt with the first two, though, one of them suddenly turned and shot the other one dead. This took up enough of his attention that Zsasz managed to tackle and disarm him. Zsasz crouched over him.

“I could kill you right now,” Zsasz said conversationally. He tapped his prey’s cheek with the side of the barrel for emphasis. “But I’m curious why you did that.”

Blondie didn’t flinch. “I thought I might as well die happy.”

“Not a big fan of him?”

“Not Freddie, no.

“What about the others?”

“I would gladly crap on their graves.” Then he giggled, but not manically. Sort of wistfully.

“You shot him right between the eyes from across the room when he was partly under cover. That’s not bad at all. They didn’t appreciate you?”

He shook his head. “They don’t care about the content, only the packaging.”

Hmm. “What’s your name?”

After a long, anxious pause, eyes darting around, this interesting person said, “Candy. My name is Candy. Please…”

“Oh?”

“Please, tell Falcone you killed three men and a woman. That’s my last request.”

Zsasz pondered this until the count of ten in his head. Then he got up. “Hi, Candy. I think you got more of a story than this. Cleanup and hauling crew will be here in two minutes. Ditch your phone. I have a powerful craving for drive-through junk of some sort.”

He - excuse me - _she_ cautiously got up as well. “People say that when you say you'll spare someone if they comply, you mean it.”

Zsasz sent a quick confirmation text and pocketed his phone. He itched to add to his tally right now, but he needed to focus. “Yep. Mission’s to neutralize and confiscate. Wasn’t told I have to kill everybody. Not sure about you yet. We’ll see how it goes.”

Candy, meanwhile took a standard burner phone out of her pocket and viciously stomped it under her boot. “I’m not going to sleep with you, if that affects things.”

Zsasz snorted. “Not everyone who works for me does, chill. And not everyone who does is a woman. People make all sorts of assumptions.”

Her eyes went big. “Are you saying...?”

“Buy me lunch and we’ll talk. Come on, the fun part’s done here. Put your hands up. I’m gonna point my gun at you on our way out, for appearances.” Zsasz didn’t let her pick up the gun she’d been using, but he didn’t pat her down for more weapons. A show of trust. He didn’t walk with her out of the warehouse until Falcone’s other people were in sight. He gave them a smile and a wave as they crossed paths. He offered no verbal explanation.

Candy looked dazed as she got into Zsasz’s car. “So you’re gonna call me Candy and agree I’m a woman? Just like that?”

“You know what your name and gender is better than I do. I don’t get why some people don’t get that.”

“Does it being Candy _Maroni_ affect things? I hate Sal. So. Much.”

Zsasz started the car and turned to smirk at her. This was a better poaching of resources than any amount of cocaine. “Even more of a story. Sounds like we might have to get milkshakes.”

****

**__Years later…_ _ **

"You finally remembered!" Candy said in the middle of a gunfight as she was providing cover fire for Zsasz and blocking Oswald with her body. Something about the way she'd stood, something about how he'd finally properly looked at her as a person instead of Zsasz's retinue. She in turn had noticed him gape. "I really wanted to ask how you got that smokey eye look!"

"I'm sorry I didn't..."

“Catch up later,” Yoona, a more senior Zsaszette, hissed from her vantage point nearby. “Get Penguin downstairs.”

“Got it!” Candy hauled Oswald up and made sure he had a good grip on his cane before making their way to the stairs together. "Nah, it's alright, it was funny.”

“Your eye makeup is likewise, as they say, on fleek,” Oswald said to distract himself from a spike of pain in his thigh.

Candy beamed, shot someone in the kneecap, then beamed some more.

**Author's Note:**

> Candy is not based on a specific onscreen Zaszette. However, Yoona Bae (traditionally Bae Yoona) is my name for one of the Zsaszettes in Season 1 who goes to get Gordon at the precinct and later helps capture Butch to be programmed.
> 
> My new novel is [ available in ebook and print form on Amazon](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DSLT3D2/ref=mp_s_a_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1529183871&sr=8-2&pi=AC_SX236_SY340_FMwebp_QL65&keywords=Donaya+Haymond&dpPl=1&dpID=51cFXjiasBL&ref=plSrch), and in [print from the Barnes & Noble site.](https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/seasons-turning-donaya-haymond/1129067787?ean=9780999202654)


End file.
